Title: Cousins: "A Gift. A Curse. A Destiny." (1/1) Author: Bonnie, Cousinly-Receptionist-In-Training Date: Tuesday, 9 November 2004 Time: around 10pm or so After: "Where's An Ant When You Need One?" Before: "Parties Happen" Disclaimers: All participants used with permission. "If somebody told you I was just your average girl, not a care in the world ... somebody lied," Bonnie narrated for her own benefit. It was here, somewhere. She searched through the computer files again. Later, while everyone was at the Hive party for Janette, she would search the filing cabinets in the storeroom. It seemed ridiculous that, after three years, she was still searching, but Vachon had assured her that the answer was here, somewhere. She had to find it. "This November a woman will face her destiny. A hero will be revealed," she narrated silently to herself. It was then that she realized Cousin Tok, one of the three heads of Cerberus, was standing in front of her desk. Bonnie wondered if the woman would simply go away if she were ignored. "Hello, Bonnie. What's happening? We need to talk about your schedule." Bonnie guessed not. She looked up at the cousinly leader, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst (after all, she was neither gullible nor idiot). "Yeah. Uh, I'm gonna need you to come in this Saturday. What with the war and all." Suddenly, Bonnie's life had turned into a scene from 'Office Space'. "Right. The war. I know, I know. Tser talked to me already." "Yeah. Uh, did you get the memo?" Cousin Tok asked and then took a languid sip from her mug. Bonnie nodded. "I got the memo. And I understand the situation. It's not a problem. I'm totally on top of things." Bonnie showed her a robin's egg blue Post-It note as proof. "Oh, and it seems that you haven't done anything wrong." "Haven't done anything ... wrong?" Bonnie asked a bit hesitantly. She wasn't sure she liked this sudden turn in the conversation. "Uh, yeah. I don't know how that's possible either. Seems very odd that no one -- not LaCroix, not a single cousin, not any of the cousinly animals, not even Vachon -- has filed a complaint against you. But, that's what the computer says and we all know that computers with no paper trails are infallible." As proven by the November 2004 U.S. election, both Tok and Bonnie added silently to themselves. "So, uh, yeah. Looks like we're, uh, gonna have to lose the 'in-training' portion of your job title." "Do I get more responsibilities?" "Of course." Tok nodded, sounding disappointed. "Do I get a raise?" "Of course not," Tok laughed. And Bonnie, though she failed to see the humor, reasoned that 5% of nothing was still nothing; so, really, it was a win-win situation all around. Cousin Tok nodded once more, then headed back towards the door that led to the Cerberus offices. But as she reached for the knob, she turned and added, "Ahh, yeah, and I'm gonna have to go ahead and ask you to come in on Sunday, too...." Bonnie sighed once Tok was gone, secretly relieved that she was still in possession of both her Post-It notes and her sanity. She quickly scribbled a large Post-It note that read "Back in 5 minutes" and stuck it to the reception desk in clear view of any visitors. Then, she dug into the bottom drawer of her desk and removed a large, full paper bag. "Brandon, I'll be right back. Watch the place and don't let anyone ... take any, um, Post-It notes." Her dog, sacked out on the comfy black leather couch that used to be occupied by one guitar-wielding lump of a Spanish vampire, opened one brown eye, but did not deign to raise his head. Still, she knew Brandon understood her request, and with that, she headed out the front door. --- Moments later, she was walking down the alleyway that ran behind the CERK building. Halfway down, under the film noir-esque flicker of an orange fluorescent light was the thing she sought: a garbage bin that would be emptied early the next morning by the ever-vigilant Metro Toronto Sanitation Engineers. She stood beside the bin, trying not to be sick from the smell. Carefully, she opened the paper bag she carried and pulled out the contents. It had been the bane of her existence for the past three Halloweens. The red and blue Spiderman costume LaCroix had given to her and insisted that she, as Cousinly-Receptionist-IN-TRAINING, wear while she handed out edible wax vampire lips and Charms Blow Pops[tm] to the children brave enough to knock on the door of the CERK building on All Hollow's Eve. Bonnie held the spandex unitard for a moment -- stared at it -- pondered its hyperbolic symbolism: it was a gift, a curse, but it was not her destiny. "I am 'In-Training' no more!" she declared as she threw the costume into the bin. Then she turned and headed back down the alley as the gray sky broke into a poignant drizzle. --- Bonnie, Cousinly Receptionist (callalily at lmi dot net)